


Never Say Goodbye

by Ice_Cube44



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark, Dark Thoughts, F/M, Future Fic, Heavy Angst, JM Barrie Quotes, JM Barrie quote in each chapter, Jones Brothers, Terminal Illnesses, The Jolly Roger, True Love, True Love's Kiss, dark themes, of the magical curse variety, taking hold of your own fate, there's lots of angst okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-13 03:11:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7960138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ice_Cube44/pseuds/Ice_Cube44
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say that True Love can break any curse.  But Emma has always been one to challenge the odds. Determined to save her, Killian is adamant that he’ll find the cure just through the next portal.  But what happens if he can’t?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Art credit/link: @cocohook38 on tumblr took on the arduous task of not only reading this, but providing artwork. 
> 
> Beta and cheerleader: @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable, thanks so much for actually managing to read through this with coherent comments and telling me that while it might break people, it was worth posting!
> 
> A/N: Seriously, I’m sorry about this. It was a rough time and I needed an outlet, and unfortunately, Killian and Emma had to bear the brunt of it. If you can get through the heartbreak and the angst, I promise the end is worth it. This story is near and dear to my heart and I will beg for reactions if it’s not too uncouth. Yell at me, tell me you hated (loved) it, but please let me know that you made it through.

It got to the point, near the end, where the only people who would have been able to recognize her as the Savior were the two with whom she shared True Love.  Even her parents had difficulty seeing past the sunken features and the half-glazed look of pain to the strong woman who had saved them all more than once and loved them all _fiercely_.  Confined as she was to the uncomfortable gurney in Storybrooke’s hospital, there was little left but skin and bones held together by the tenacious will of her son and her pirate.

It was ironic that with all of the magic contained in Storybrooke, the Enchanted Forest, Arendelle, and every other realm known to them that not a single one of the healers, magicians, witches, wizards, or warlocks that the town had dragged into Emma’s hospital room could break through the spell and heal her.  Modern science was not equipped to deal with the level of destruction one magic wielding villain could wreak upon the human body and ages old magic still couldn’t find a way past the curse.

When it first happened, Killian had spent hours upon hours trying any form of kiss he could think of to break the enchantment – much to Emma’s amusement and David’s vexation.  Henry had tried as well, falling all over himself to help every time the pirate asked him to try just one more time.  But the latest villain to darken Storybrooke had done his research well.

True Love’s Kiss, it seemed, simply couldn’t break _this_ curse.

Killian left her bedside for only three reasons.  To drag Jefferson off to yet another realm so he could kidnap – _persuade, Swan, persuade forcefully_ – whichever wielder of magic Belle had found in her research to return to Emma’s bedside.  To take young Neal out to wander the hospital’s courtyard and feed the birds so that David and Snow could have some time with Emma without worrying about the little prince’s youthful exuberance disturbing his love’s rest.  To drag Henry, practically kicking and screaming, to the house to shower and change his clothes for school.

Only when it was beyond absolutely necessary – and even then it was with great protest – did Killian catch catnaps in the chair by her bed or stretched out underneath the window.  He used the small attached bathroom to splash water on his face and in his hair, and used an old rag to wipe off the days-old grime when the nurses threatened to bar him from her room otherwise.  The bags under his eyes and the curl of his unkempt hair were only offset by what Emma called his “Duck Dynasty” impersonation – whatever that meant – as she scratched her fingers through his beard.

The longest that Killian left Emma’s side were the times when he had to hunt down the Hatter and drag him – and his constant protests – through the Hat’s portal.  There were few that had ever dared to challenge the business end of Killian’s hook – and that mostly boiled down to Emma or Henry – so Jefferson only put up the barest of fights when the pirate traded him time and again for the rules of the Hat.  Two entered the portal and two left it.  The Hatter had instructions to reopen the portal every twenty four hours for his return ticket.  So far, Killian had returned each time to whichever realm he had abandoned Jefferson in looking more morose than when he left it.

Killian would do anything to take all this strife onto his own shoulders.  He’d trade places with her in a heartbeat, even at the risk of facing eternal damnation back to the Underworld if only it meant that Emma would stop suffering.  He had begged Regina to find a potion or a spell that would transfer the curse to him.

The resulting screaming match with Emma was the loudest and the angriest he had heard her since she was hit with the curse.

Her outburst had set all of the monitors recording her vitals to screeching in a brilliant cacophony and sent a team of medical personnel sprinting into the hospital room to combat the problem.  They kept Emma sedated for days until her body healed from the tirade.

It was subsequently the last time he had discussed plans to save her within earshot.

He was wearing himself to the bone, no one would deny it except for him, but none save Emma were brave enough to call him on it.  Not that he listened to her worry.   _Just one more trip, Swan.  I’ll rest in a little bit, luv.  It’s my turn to take care of you.  You don’t have to worry about me._  He was balanced on a sword’s edge, toeing the line between exhaustion and illness with just enough rest to keep him at Emma’s side and not in a hospital bed of his own.  But as days wore into weeks and Belle ran out of options in her books and even on her magic box – _yes, I know you call it the bloody ‘internet’_ – Killian found himself catching fewer catnaps and tearing himself away from Emma’s side more often to scour yet another realm.  He knew he was grasping at straws when he started bringing back the same healers he had started with, more desperate threats and pleas dragging them to her bedside.

No one had an answer and Killian had to ignore the sympathetic looks that more and more of Emma’s extended family – _his_ family – were giving him with a stubborn resolve that his centuries of torment had strengthened in him.  Every time Whale had to add another tube that snaked under Emma’s hospital gown until all of her bodily needs and functions were being controlled manually or when the on-call nurse had to exchange the nasal cannula for a full mask on a regular basis so that Emma could draw enough breath to keep from wheezing, Killian’s walls of denial grew just a little more insurmountable.

This was Emma Swan.  The love of his life.  The Savior who broke more than one curse.  The determined lass who wouldn’t rest until she found everyone’s happy ending – even reformed villains who didn’t deserve to be saved – to find peace.  The woman who saved him from Hades and from himself.  The feisty blonde who took one look at him and never pulled back from challenging him, pushing him to be a better man.  The soldier in a constant battle between good and evil.  The soft-hearted, broken, other half of his heart.  This was Emma Swan and no mere curse should get the best of her.

Emma was his happy ending.  She had given herself freely to him.

She deserved her happy ending, too.

What Emma _didn’t_ deserve was to be fighting for every breath, fighting to push through the painful muscle spasms that rippled through her just when she was starting to relax.  She didn’t deserve for the curse to sap her strength every time she opened her eyes until she was sleeping more than she was awake.  She shouldn’t have to fight down the nausea so that her son wouldn’t worry himself into an ulcer because she turned paler and then green before begging him to leave the room for a moment.  Emma didn’t deserve to be denied her rest by nightmares so vivid that it took an eternity for Killian’s soft accent and soothing touch to wake her and calm her.

Those were the few times that he would crowd her on the tiny mattress, slipping under the warm, plush blankets Snow had brought to curl Emma protectively against his chest.  He’d sing soft sea shanties until her tears that burned his chest as they soaked his shirt finally abated and her quiet snoring was the only sound in the room.

It was only then that Killian would allow his own tears to drench her limp hair, biting into – and occasionally through – the skin inside his cheek to keep his sobs from waking her again.

* * *

 

Killian trudged back into the hospital with mud caking his boots, his face, even his hair.  He had been surprised as he wandered that world – it looked so much like this Land without Magic, but there was a good chunk of the population who _were_ magic-wielders.  Belle had found mention of a stone from the stomach of a goat of all things found in this realm that was purported to cure most afflictions.  Stumbling into some kind of war, he had returned from the odd place with nothing more than his life, a few mosquito bites, and a sore hand from when he had tripped over a root into a swamp.

Without prompting, he slunk into the staff locker room and stripped down before bracing himself under the scalding hot spray of one of the showers.  It took every last bit of energy that he had to remain standing; to move his hands from the wall to scrub himself clean would have required far too much effort.  So he allowed the water to sluice over him until it ran clean, then turned it ice cold to stave off the crippling exhaustion.  Shivering and blue, the pirate pulled on a clean set of clothes from the spare locker with his name written on masking tape.  It looked suspiciously like David’s handwriting.

Finally as presentable as he could manage, Killian stumbled into the elevator and punched the button for Emma’s floor.  The sickening jolt to his stomach as the contraption began its ascent threatened to bring up the dried fruit he had munched on while on the move, but he battled it down.  Normally he hated to use these “elevators”, preferring to move up to Emma’s room completely under his own power, but he was just too tired.  All he wanted at the moment was to spend a few hours watching Emma sleep.  It might just calm him enough that he could curl up on the cot Little John had set up from the woodland camp and doze until morning.  He had the bed set up so the light of the sunrise would cross his eyelids so he wouldn’t risk sleeping in.

Of course, even the best of plans were often derailed.  Killian staggered out of the elevator with the last of his energy and leaned against the wall as he dragged himself all the way down the hall.  All traces of fatigue were wiped from his memory when he heard Emma’s cries from outside her door.  The rasp of her voice told him that she’d been caught in the nightmare for a while and the panicked timbre of a cracking teenage voice told him that Henry was unsuccessful at rousing her.  He opened the door to her private room and squeezed his hand to the teenager’s shoulder before kicking off his boots.  With a reassuring grin for Henry who smiled back tiredly, Killian began softly speaking as he lifted the blankets.

With an ease born of unfortunate practice, Killian and Henry worked together to lift the wires and tubes until he had her snuggled into his side.  The boy tucked the blankets down around both of them before he whispered that he would call Regina to take him to dinner.  They both knew it would be awhile before Emma was fit for visitors again and she hated knowing that Henry saw her in this state.  It was one of the few reasons her son left her side willingly.

“Shh, my love, shh.  It’s just a nightmare.  I’m right here and you’re safe, Swan.  Shh, everyone is safe.  I love you so much, shh.”  Killian continued to whisper sweet nothings into her ear as he tucked her face into his neck.  He began to hum a lullaby he vaguely remembered Liam singing to him in one dank ship’s hold or another, the melody soothing both boys.  It did the same for Emma, now, and he was rewarded after a few rounds through the song when damp lashes finally tickled his throat.  His Swan was finally awake.

Scratching his fingers through her blonde locks, Killian continued to hold her close, ignoring how his left forearm was stuttering over her spine.  The illness was sapping her appetite as well as her strength and it was showing in the weight she had lost.  There was a tube in her nose that Whale had said was supplementing her nutrition, but it could only do so much.  Regardless, she was here in his arms and calming down, everything else could wait a few more minutes.

Tears soaked through his clean shirt as Emma grasped weakly at the collar, trying in vain to pull herself closer to his side.  He shifted carefully so he was flat on his back, lifting her to his chest and wrapping her tightly in his embrace.  He heard her sigh through her tears as she relaxed and let the tension flow from her muscles.  Killian risked loosening his grip for a moment to pull the blanket up to her shoulders, tucking the fabric under her chin to keep her warm.  His own eyelids drooped as Emma’s closed again, the stress of the nightmare sapping any strength she had built up in her sleep.  The last thing he remembered before exhaustion pulled them both under was that wisps of her hair were tickling his nose.

* * *

 

Killian woke with a start when the swish of curtains broke through the monotonous beeping that he had all but tuned out in the past several weeks of Emma’s hospital stay.  His eyes shot open and his arms automatically tightened around the frail body draped across his torso.  The breath that warmed the hollow of his throat settled him and Killian focused outwards.  Snow’s sheepish face graced his line of sight and he blew out the breath he had been holding.

“Sorry,” she whispered and he had to strain to hear it.  “I didn’t want the light to wake either of you.”

Killian smiled and nodded his thanks.  He watched as she traced the purple ‘Emma’ on the blanket draped over his Swan’s shoulders, pointedly ignoring the resigned look that was as familiar on her face these days as the hopeful one had been as long as he’d known her.  He watched as she flitted about the room, straightening the flowers Aurora had sent and cleaning the dust off the wooden swan figurine that August had dropped off.  Tracking her movements around the room was hypnotizing, and it was a long while before Killian became truly aware of the passage of time.  The smell of coffee assaulted his nostrils and the promise of caffeine roused him finally.  Snow left the Styrofoam cup on the bedside table and ran her fingers through his hair before traipsing out of the room.

Killian untangled his hand from the blankets and reached carefully for the steaming liquid.  Just holding it under his nose drove more of the exhaustion from his body.  He savored the bitter taste as it passed over his taste buds and burned the back of his throat.  It wasn’t quite the same burn as his rum provided, but this liquid brought about clarity rather than the numbing quality from his flask.

Killian hadn’t touched a drop of rum since the day Emma collapsed in front of him and clutched at her chest after shoving him out of the way of the demon’s magic.

He pouted at the empty cup for a good five minutes before placing it to the side and working to extract himself from Emma’s grip.  Belle was due to stop by with any new information in less than an hour and he intended to meet her on his feet, ready to go.  He carefully rolled his love to her back and maneuvered his frame out from under all of the medical equipment she needed to keep her as strong as Whale’s science could manage.  Several protection charms and spells did the rest and it was an eerie mix of magic and medicine keeping Emma alive up to this point.

Killian fervently wished that at least _one_ of the items he had brought back with him would just _work_.

Finally back on his feet, the pirate marveled at how Emma continued to reach for him in her sleep.  Thankful that he hadn’t woken her, he slipped her baby blanket back under her chin and ran his hand down her arm.  Killian had no idea how long he stood there, drinking in her peaceful state before he realized Belle was watching him from the door with a melancholy smile on her face.

Moving to her side, Killian was delighted to see that she had a small book with her – she only came bearing research when she had already found something, not when she was simply checking in with him.  He was startled when she reached out to cup his cheek.  “Killian, you look awful.  When was the last time you got any real rest?”

The pirate bristled that they were wasting time on his health when she clearly had another avenue for him to try.  “I just woke up, I’ll have you know.  What do you have for us?”

He nodded to her book and glared intentionally.  Killian knew that he had won when Belle sighed.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before.  I’ve sent you to DunBroch twice, but never thought to have you try to find the Spring of Borvo.  It’s supposed to have healing powers and would be a perfect foil to the curse.  If you can bring some back and Emma drinks it, maybe it will help.”  She showed him an illustration of a babbling brook falling over rocks out of a small pool.  The trees that surrounded it looked familiar and Killian was sure that he’d passed just such a place on his last trek to Merida’s land.

Loathe to leave Emma alone so soon after returning, Killian forced himself to wait until she woke on her own.  The pain that wracked her body when she was awake seemed to abate in sleep and he was always dismayed at the stark difference in her features once she opened her eyes.  The curse, it seemed, prevented a simple sleeping spell from providing any relief.  He was sorely tempted to beg Regina or Maleficent to put her under a sleeping curse until he could find a cure.  Only the knowledge that she would be trapped in the burning room until he succeeded kept him from mentioning it.

When she finally pushed past the wall of pain and met his gaze, her soft smile comforted him more than anything else could even come close to doing.  “Good morning, Swan.  How are you feeling?”

Emma took a moment to answer and he could see how she catalogued the different parts of her that were affected by the curse.  She shrugged her shoulders and reached out to him.  Unable to deny her anything, Killian let her grasp his hook weakly while he carded his fingers through her hair.  Bestowing a kiss upon her forehead, he breathed in the scent of her, masked as it was under the antiseptic of the hospital.  They remained with their foreheads together, drinking each other in, for longer than either would care to mention.  Time seemed to stop as they stared into each other’s eyes, and it was only a coughing fit that finally broke the spell.  The nurses had shown him how to switch Emma to the mask that made it easier to breathe, so he did this without conscious thought.  More determined than ever to save her from this torment, Killian sat her up and let her rest against his chest as she caught her breath and then fixed the pillows behind her.

“Belle found something.  She thinks that there’s a spring in Merida’s kingdom that could heal you.  I should only be gone for a day or two at the most, but…”  Killian trailed off at the tears in Emma’s eyes.

“Killian, you have to stop.”  The rasp of her voice was muffled by the plastic, but it still punched him sharply in the gut even before the words registered.  A tendril of fear shot through him.

“What?  What do you mean, luv?”  He cupped her cheek and cringed at how papery her skin felt as it slid over bone.  He needed to get to DunBroch and the sooner, the better.  

Emma stared at him sadly, reaching up with effort to entwine their fingers.  Bringing his hand back down to her lap where she didn’t have to use as much energy to play with the rings on his hand, she dropped her gaze.

“I need you to stop, Killian,” she repeated and sniffled.  “I need for it to be enough.  I need to know that _I’m_ enough.”

He shook his head in disbelief.  “You are _more_ than enough, my love.  My brother told me something once.  He said that ‘if you have love, you don't need to have anything else, and if you don't have it, it doesn't matter much what else you have’.  That’s why I’ve been doing all of this.  Because with all the things I’ve done, you still love me.  So I’ll only be a little while, and this will work.  You’ll see.  This water will work and everything will be better.”

Emma shook her head.  “You’ve tried everything.  I know that.  My family knows that.  I love you, Killian, but I’m tired now.  I just want to rest.”

He pulled her back up to his chest, purposely misinterpreting her words as he removed the extra pillows and then laid her back in the bed instead.  Brushing her hair back from her face, he smiled.  “You rest, then.  I’ll get the Hatter and I’ll be back before you know it.”

Killian pulled the blankets up around her shoulders and reached to turn off the overhead light.  He met her heartbroken look with one of his own, kissing her softly once more.  “I love you so much, Emma.”

* * *

 

The trip to DunBroch was completed at an all-out sprint, something in the tone of Emma’s voice haunting him through the meeting with Merida and the trek to the spring.  Thankfully, he didn’t encounter a single problem and had a full flask of the water to bring back with him.  The hermit who resided in a cave under the waterfall that overflowed from the underground spring had been most helpful.  Stories of all of DunBroch’s residents who had found their saving graces with the water filled Killian’s ears and the optimism Swan’s family had been lacking seemed silly now.  They had simply been looking in the wrong places – this water had healed all types of curses and spells.  Everything would be all right as soon as he could get back to Emma’s side.  With this newfound confidence, Killian didn’t bother to stop moving until Jefferson had thrown the Hat and he waited with thinly veiled impatience as they had to wait for the portal to open widely enough.  They were through to Storybrooke in an instant and Killian didn’t bother listening to the Hatter’s threats that he wasn’t going to do this again.  He wouldn’t have to; the water would work.

He saw Henry wander around the corner when he reached Emma’s floor in the early morning’s light, something about the dejected slump of the boy’s shoulders almost enough to dampen his good mood.  Whatever it was, seeing his mother healed would trump any teenage angst that was plaguing the boy on his way to school, so Killian kept moving to her room.  Just a few gulps and they’d both be able to go after her son.

Killian wasn’t sure exactly what it was about the hermit’s stories that had gotten his hopes up so high, but he was ecstatic when Emma gave him a baleful glare, but wearily drank down the entire flask of water anyway.

She took a deep breath and was doubled over by the hacking coughs that left her sobbing for breath.  The color drained even further from her face and it was too much effort to hold her head up or even keep her eyes open.

Killian collapsed soundlessly into the chair at Emma’s bedside when his legs would no longer support his weight.  Hiding his face behind his right hand, Killian tried not to let the devastation of another false lead break him.  Emma had been so strong for him in the Underworld, saving him from himself, so the least he could do now was keep fighting for her.  “I’m sorry it didn’t work, Swan.  Let me just call Belle and I’m sure we can find something else.”

“Belle isn’t coming back, Killian.”  The pirate shot to his feet and took two steps towards the door.

“Of _course_ she is.  She can’t just…”

Emma cut him off before he could run off to berate the librarian.  “I called Belle right after you left.  I told her to stop looking.”

Killian couldn’t breathe.  “ _Why_?  Why would you do that?  There’s still a whole library full of books to go through and I’m sure we’ll find something.”

The thumping of his heart and the tunneling of his vision was terrifying, but the words that came out of Swan’s mouth were even more so.  Killian fought to box his emotions back into the corner of his heart that was guarded more heavily than Hades’ prison had been.  His pain wasn’t important at the moment; Emma’s was.  He took a deep, shuddering breath, and scrubbed his fingers through the scruff of his beard.  Clearly he needed to build her hope back up, he just wasn’t sure how.  Not when his was already so ravaged by his failure.  “Emma…”

“Isn’t it enough yet, Killian?  Haven’t we fought this curse enough yet?”  Emma’s voice startled him out of his plan to bolster her courage and his head shot up to lock his gaze on her.  She looked absolutely wrecked – her hair was limp around her face, her eyes sunken in and bags under them – and she was still the most beautiful sight he’d ever been blessed to look upon.  But something in her eyes was broken.  The look that he had seen in Snow and David’s face after their last visit was now being mirrored in hers.

“I’m tired, Killian.  I’m so tired and I’m ready to let go.  You’ve done everything and more to find a way to fix this, but it’s not going to be fixed.”  She broke off to cough weakly into her elbow and Killian felt his heart begin to shatter.  “I made Henry understand earlier that there aren’t going to be any more fruitless treasure hunts.  He gets it.  I need you to get it, too.”

Killian watched as she dropped her head back down to the pillow.  It took her awhile to catch her breath again, but she continued her speech.  “I love you, and I’m not ready to go just yet, but I need you _here_ ; with me.  I need to know that I’m going to wake up to your arms around me, to breathe you in and rely on your strength, not wonder what realm you’ve dragged Jefferson off to now.”

Time stopped.  Nothing made sense.  Even if Emma wanted him here, there were plenty of other people who could take over for him.  It didn’t mean they needed to give up just to give her the comfort he had been selfishly withholding from her.  He told her as much, but she rebuked him.

He tried a different angle.  If she wouldn’t keep fighting for herself, then maybe he could be enough of the cad he’d once been to play on her love for him.  “Emma, luv, please.  I can’t…I can’t do this without you, not now.  You saved me; you brought me back from the brink so many times and it’s because of you that I am the man my brother can be proud of.  I can’t just watch you die.”

But Emma saw right through him.  “I can’t get my hopes up again, Killian.  We’re not giving up; we’re just taking advantage of the time that’s been given to us.”

He sunk back down into the chair.  “Emma, no.  You have so much left to do.  I wanted to give you the world, and all I’ve given you is this.”  His chin dropped to his chest as the argument sucked all of the hope out of him.

A few more moments of strained silence bounced between them as Emma summoned the strength to plead her case once more.  “It’s all right.  Killian, _it’s_ _all right_.  You gave me a future that I _never_ dreamed I could have.  You’ve made me so happy; you and Henry.  But this is all we get.  And I’m okay with that.  I need you to be okay with that, too.  Please, you have to let me go.”

Killian couldn’t draw in a breath.  He couldn’t think straight.  He couldn’t understand what she was saying.  Only he could understand it all too well.  He had seen her health deteriorate over the weeks that she had been under this curse, he had seen her struggle to be the strong woman he had fallen in love with in the hellhole of Neverland.  He knew that she had held on for longer than anyone else in this blasted town could have.  Now it was his time to hold on for her.  To fight against his instincts to push onwards.  To be in the moment and make that be enough.

Killian was vaguely aware of the tears that were pouring down his cheeks unchecked.  He was pulling hard on the hair at the base of his skull and his hook was rubbing incessantly up and down his thigh.  It took an undetermined amount of time to finally get his emotions under enough control that he could check on Emma.  When he finally raised his head, she was curled on her side watching him sadly.  She smiled at him and extended her hand to intertwine their fingers once more.  The ghost of a tug had him climbing into bed with her.

Emma surprised him when she rolled to her back and cradled his head on her chest.  Slim fingers scratched at his scalp and toyed with the charms around his neck.  The curse was sapping her very life from her body, and Emma was trying to comfort _him_.  That realization started up the waterworks again and he soaked the neck of her gown as he finally let his anguish bubble to the surface unhindered.

Killian sobbed into Emma’s shoulder long after his own reserves of energy were depleted and there were no tears left to shed.  Through it all, she was his rock, holding him to her chest and running her hand up and down his back soothingly.  He heard the sweet nothings she whispered over his forehead and let the soft timbre of her voice finally lull him to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

  


**_Look at the amazing art that[cocohook38](http://cocohook38.tumblr.com) over at Tumblr did for my fic!_**

* * *

* * *

Killian woke a short time later to a hushed conversation between Snow and Emma.  Regulating his breathing, the pirate listened to the two women speak over his head.

“I think he finally gets it.  It’s going to be hard for him, he gives so much of himself to us, but I think he’s finally ready to give me this.”  Emma ran her fingers through his hair and nuzzled his forehead with her cheek.

He felt Snow’s thumb rubbing circles onto his upper arm as she spoke to her daughter.  “He loves you so much.  I just wish your father and I had understood that sooner.  I don’t think you could have found a better man to love you.”

“I want to go home, Mom.  I don’t want to…I want to end this fight on my own terms.”  Killian could feel the way her breath stuttered as she made her request.  Emma’s fingers tightened reflexively as if she were gearing up for a fight.  As if there was anyone left in her family who would deny her anything she asked.

“All right.  I’ll talk to Whale.  We’ll get you home.”

Killian waited until he heard the door shut behind Snow before he opened his eyes.  Emma was gazing down at him fondly as she traced the scar on his cheek with her thumb.  “Are you okay with that?”

Apparently he hadn’t been as sneaky as he thought.

“About letting you finally rest where our future began?  That house was a promise to you, luv.  That plan for the future was for us both to find our happy endings.  If going back there now will make you happy, Swan, then yes, I am most emphatically ‘okay with that’.”  Killian rolled onto his back and tucked her into his side.  They remained curled up in each other while the nurses worked to disconnect Emma from all of her machines, letting the professionals work around them through the sometimes painful procedures.  It took longer than Killian would have liked, and Emma was exhausted at the end of it, but she was finally free.

For the first time in weeks, Emma was allowed to don soft flannel pants and the button down shirt she had stolen from Killian’s closet almost immediately on their return from Hades’ lair.  Warm socks and her gray beanie completed the ensemble and she settled in the wheelchair with her fingers still tight in his grasp.  The car ride across town saw her dozing on his shoulder and Snow and David left Killian to carry her inside as they left to take Henry out of school.  They didn’t know how much time was left, but Emma was sure Regina wouldn’t begrudge their son the lapse in his education.

Killian left the front door ajar as he ferried Emma up the stairs to their still immaculate bedroom.  The pirate suspected Snow’s handy work here and silently thanked her for it – Emma would rest far more comfortably if she wasn’t battling dust as well.

The serenity on his love’s face as she sank into their soft mattress chased away the melancholy that threatened to drown him every time he thought about what they were doing.  He had been fighting every day of his too-long life, from the day he and Liam were abandoned, and to stop doing so now tore at him in ways he didn’t expect.

But Emma was happy, and that was far more important.

So he watched over her as she rested against his chest, coaxing her to drink when she could and laughing along with the rest of her family as they swapped stories throughout the evening.  They shared dinner in that bedroom, bringing Emma a hot chocolate with cinnamon and whipped cream so she had something in her stomach as well.  It was late when Henry, David, and Snow stumbled out of the room to other bedrooms on the floor.  Her family wouldn’t be far now.

Not now.

* * *

 

Alone in their bedroom, Killian and Emma snuggled under the covers, breathing in each other’s air and simply staring at one another until she started to nod off.  Only then did Killian roll to his back so he could tuck her once more into his side.  The wisps of her hair tickled his nose as he buried it in her locks, breathing in the scent of her and memorizing it.  If he didn’t let himself think too much about their current situation, then he could pretend that this was just another night in their home.  He could pretend that he was going to wake up in the morning and make Emma breakfast before walking her to the sheriff’s office.

Instead, he was counting every breath and praying to any god he could think of that he would be able to look into her eyes again come morning.

Killian couldn’t have told you how late it was in the dark of night when he started speaking.  He had lost himself in the scent of her hair and the feel of her skin against his bare chest.  The blanket of darkness and the lullaby of her soft snores finally obliterated his walls.

He began to whisper in fits and starts.  “I was so angry with you when I woke up in that dark hole in Camelot.  I had begged you not to tether me to that damned sword, told you I could never be as strong as you were.  The last thing in this world I wanted to be was the Dark One, and you plowed right past what I wanted and saved me anyway.  I couldn’t figure it out and I threw your faith right in the garbage.  And then you took away my memories to save me from myself and you tried to do it all on your own and you were still stronger than I ever could have been.  When Zelena showed me what had happened, I was furious with you.  I wanted you to hurt as badly as I did and then I tried to hurt myself by hurting you so that it would be me I was railing against and not you.  I was trying to make you hate me so that you would fight against me.

“And then you were still going to sacrifice yourself to save everyone – to save _me_ – and I knew I couldn’t let you do that.  I deserved, I _thought_ I deserved everything that I had waiting for me in the Underworld.  I was ready to face all of it to atone for all of my sins – for who I became when Liam died, how I lost myself after Milah, all of the things I said and did to you over the years.  I wanted that pain and so I begged you again to let me go.

“Do you know how irate I was when I saw you in the Underworld?  I thought you were some kind of trick at first when you appeared like an apparition, but then I saw the look in your eyes and I knew that Hades couldn’t fake that much love, that much pain.  I was terrified that he was going to get to you before I could.  But I was still so angry that you couldn’t see past that love.  I think I might have even wanted Hades to drop me in the river before you got to me so you’d go home and be safe.  I thought you were looking at the world – at me – with rose colored glasses and when you saved me, I just wanted to get you back home and fall to my fate.

“I couldn’t understand why you would risk everything when I had begged you so many times to let me go.  Why you couldn’t do that one thing for me.  But I get it now.  I understand how hard it must have been for you to know that you could do something to save me, and have me fighting you at every turn.  I was so relieved when you walked away from me that night with Liam, I could finally move forward on my own path and while I still thought that treading in my brother’s footsteps was the way to go, it was my own choice and you finally allowed me to face my demons on my own two feet.  I could see that you were hurt that I wasn’t choosing you, but I think you finally understood that I needed to decide my own fate.  Had I followed Liam all the way back to the _Jewel_ that night, my only regret would have been that I had left before you could say goodbye.

“Thank you, luv, for giving me this chance to say goodbye.  You’ve always been the stronger of us, the better of us.  And I will do my best to honor that from now until you step into the Great Beyond.  It is my only hope, my Swan, that your better place is the same as mine so I might join you again someday.”

Killian was vaguely aware of the tears that escaped past his clenched eyes and tracked down into his scruff, of how he couldn’t breathe through his nose and his eyes stung with the salt.  When he felt gentle lips kissing away his tears, his eyes shot open to meet sad green ones gazing down at him.

“That’s all I want, too, Killian.  Thank you.”  Emma tucked her head back into the crook of his neck and played with the charms resting on his chest.  He let her rest in blessed silence as he reined in his fractured emotions.  Killian wasn’t sure he had ever meant for her to hear his confession.

“Tell me that you forgive me, Killian.  For taking away your choices so many times.  Please tell me that…”

Killian quieted her with a finger to her lips.  “Of course, Swan.  You gave me so much because you came after me.  You gave me a home and a family and your love.  I wouldn’t have had any of that if you hadn’t saved me so many times.  It was never about forgiving you; you were right that night – I needed to forgive myself.  But if you need to hear it, then yes, my love, I forgive you.”

He took a deep breath and shut his eyes as armor against what he was going to ask next.  “Can you forgive me for taking so long to realize that _this_ is what you need, not some mystical cure?”

The kiss she placed on his forehead felt like a benediction and absolution all wrapped up in her love.  “Oh Killian.  You wouldn’t be the man I love if you hadn’t tried everything you could to save me.  I never begrudged you all those treasure hunts you searched out to try and give us both more of a future.  That’s what True Love means, Killian.  I love you so, _so_ much.  But if you need to hear it, then yes, my love, I forgive you.”

Most of her energy sapped with holding herself up over him, Emma slowly collapsed onto Killian’s chest and tucked her head under his chin.  His own energy reserves were sapped and he could only hold on to wakefulness long enough to hear her breaths even out in sleep.

* * *

 

Killian may not have intended for Emma to hear his confession that night, not wanting to burden her with the anger he’d held on to for so long, but he wasn’t so stubborn as to ignore the difference their whispered pleas for forgiveness had brought.  Even as her body grew weaker and the curse stole even her breath as it ravaged her, Killian could see the lightness in her eyes.  There was an ease to how she interacted with them all now, like she knew that whenever the curse finally claimed her, everything had been said between them.  He, too, found it easier to reside in the moment and even found himself laughing along with the rest of her extended family as they whiled away the days swapping stories in between her naps.

He seldom left her side, the few times being when she wanted some privacy with each of her family members to say goodbye.  Those conversations happened sporadically since the mood claimed her strength and left both participants in tears.  Watching Henry dash from the room and sprint for the relative privacy of the back porch had been the hardest.  Regina had canted her head towards their bedroom, dismissing him as summarily as she would one of her subjects.  The message was clear – _she_ would be the one to comfort Henry.   _He_ was needed elsewhere.

Night after night, Killian watched Emma sleep, holding her tight to his side and cataloguing each movement as one to be remembered.  He memorized every inch of her skin that he could see, ran his fingers lightly through her hair and traced the apple of her cheek.  The softness of her skin contrasted so starkly with the roughness of his fingertips that he was sure that he would wake her.  But Emma slept on and he was comforted by the rise and fall of her chest.  Her breathing was a lullaby to him, the soft sounds that she made in sleep soothing to his ears.  It was in the darkness with no one around that he wished to take her away from this to Neverland.  To stop time so that he might be granted the opportunity to keep her at his side forever.

The sunlight filtered in every morning and banished the lure of Neverland from his thoughts.  In the light of day he knew that he couldn’t condemn her to that.  The waters of Neverland wouldn’t cure this – they’d already tried Gold’s substitute – and to trap her in time in this state was unconscionable.  He knew this, and still as the days went on, he also knew that there would never be enough time.

* * *

 

The sunlight was painting Emma’s skin in a glorious hue one morning while he watched her doze.  The dawn’s rays were masking how pale she had become and Killian could see the glorious creature who had bested him from the first moment he had laid eyes on her.  Time seemed to melt away as he remembered their adventures – the beanstalk, Neverland, Prince Charles and Princess Leia, battling the Darkness.  The Underworld.  There were so many that he could have spent all day just listing them, but when green eyes met his and they sparkled, Killian’s mind went blank.

There was a glow around her that he hadn’t seen in weeks, and it both comforted him and terrified him in the same moment.  He had seen this momentary reprieve often enough in his centuries of observing death that he was wary of how much time they had left.  He was also worried about how her family was going to react to the improvement.  It looked like it was going to be a good day for Emma, and for now, he would take what he could get.

False hope, however, could be devastating in the wrong hands.

“Hey,” he whispered, drinking in her gaze and thanking every deity he knew for gracing him with the sight.

Emma smiled brightly at him and thumbed at his lip.  He obliged her with a kiss, keeping it gentle but pouring every bit of himself into it regardless.  Whatever this was, Killian was going to bask in her happiness and the reprieve from the pain and weakness that had sapped her energy for so long.  He almost purred when her fingers scratched through the hair at the nape of his neck.  The tilting of her head and the tongue that traced the seam of Killian’s mouth invited him to deepen the kiss and he was helpless to her desires.

When those fingers gripped his hair and she bit his lower lip, the spike of pain pulled an involuntary growl from his throat.  It seemed this was going to be a very good morning, after all.

“Good morning,” Emma whispered back when they could hear the sounds of her family stirring down the hall.  Her brilliant smile soothed the storm in his very soul and it startled the pirate when he realized that in that moment, he was truly happy.

“Good morning, indeed, lass.”  Killian moved to continue their current morning activities and was overjoyed when Emma responded in kind.  He loomed over her and they traded lazy kisses until there was a knock on the door.  Killian’s jaw clenched as he withdrew his hand from Emma’s shirt and tucked the covers back around her.

“It seems your family is intent on seeing you.”  He nipped her upper lip once more before he padded to the door to admit Henry.

Emma smiled at both of them before allowing herself to be distracted by her son.  Killian left them to it, wandering towards the promise of caffeine in their kitchen.  He set the machine to brew his own cup while he reached for the cinnamon and the can of whipped cream from the fridge.  It took a moment for his coffee and Emma’s hot chocolate to fill their respective mugs, but when he had both mug handles balanced carefully against each other in his right hand, he didn’t dally in the kitchen any longer.

Killian leaned against the door frame and soaked in the sight of his love with her head thrown back in laughter.  She was an absolute marvel, a goddess in his bed – in _their_ bed.  He shouldn’t be having the thoughts he was, not with David firmly ensconced in Killian’s spot on the mattress, one arm around Emma as she leaned back against his shoulder and the other holding Snow securely in front of him.  Henry lounged across the foot of the bed, burying his face in the blankets as his own shoulders shook with amusement.

When Emma noticed him standing there, she beckoned him in, scooting closer to David so that he could join them in her normal spot.  He handed her the cocoa, making sure that her hands were wrapped securely around the ceramic before releasing the handle and settling on the mattress.  Killian let his head loll onto the headboard and concentrated on not spilling his coffee while the conversation resumed.  Emma was clearly relishing the energy she had been granted and the peace of having her family around her.  The feeling was contagious and Killian basked in the moment.

He hadn’t realized he was dozing until Neal’s babbling over the “baby monitor” startled him.  Before Snow could untangle herself from David’s arms, Killian was back on his feet.  “I’ll get the little prince.  Won’t be a moment.”

Snow just smiled and turned her attention back to Henry’s story.

Killian opened the door to the boy’s room and smiled at how Neal stood on his “big boy” bed with his arms outstretched for his “Uncle Kay”.  It hit him suddenly that he would only ever be an uncle.  He and Emma had spoken about expanding their family, but the time had never been right.  First, there was the tumultuous time after the Underworld where they were just settling into a life together.  That was followed by another string of villains.  He supposed it was a blessing in disguise now – Emma wouldn’t have to abandon another child.  It didn’t stop him from imagining a little prince running amok around their house, a little pirate with skinned knees and grass in her hair.  A little piece of Emma left to him after she had gone.

Before Neal could lever himself over the bumper rail of the bed, Killian scooped him up and hugged him tight to his chest.  The warmth of a child just out of his blankets was soothing to his inner turmoil, and Killian took a breath and boxed those dreams away.  If his nephew was the only new opportunity he had to pass on his pirating ways, it was in some ways fitting that he was named after the first boy he had taught to sail.

He returned to their bedroom with the little prince perched on his shoulders, his pajama clad feet bouncing on Killian’s chest.  Neal’s giggles as they both ducked through the door brought smiles to everyone’s faces.  The pirate made a show of lifting the boy over his head and dropping him on the center of the bed to more laughter.  Then he made his way back to Emma’s side.

He expected Neal to climb into his mother’s lap.  He would have understood the boy settling in Emma’s embrace.  He did not imagine that he would be molded into a comfortable seat by little hands.

But Neal deemed Killian a suitable place of repose, and that was that.

So the morning passed in a blur of stories.  Henry read to Neal from the Storybook, Killian told stories of Liam and his seafaring days, David and Snow described some misadventures that hadn’t made the pages of the Book.  Emma spoke a little of her happier childhood memories.  The scratch of Henry’s pen did little to detract from the ease of the day.

If Killian didn’t know any better, he would have sworn this was a little slice of heaven.

But then Emma leaned forward and coughed weakly into her elbow and the spell was broken.  Killian threw himself into motion, depositing Neal in his mother’s arms before wrapping Emma in his strong embrace.  They rode out the spell together, his hand absently rubbing up and down her back as he whispered soft assurances in her ear.

When she finally slid back into the cradle of her parents’ arms, Killian could see what the sunlight had hidden from him that morning: their time had run out.  Emma met his eyes and he could read her as easily as he had that day on the beanstalk – she knew that they were at the end as well.

Killian wasn’t sure where to go from here.  For all of his experience with death, those closest to him – the ones he really wanted to have a last goodbye with – had all been ripped from him violently.

Emma, for her part, seemed to know exactly what to do next.  “I need a minute here, Killian.  Could you grab the keys to the Bug and my red jacket for me?  And maybe your old pirate duster?”

Unwilling to deny her anything at the moment, Killian didn’t question the odd request and left her, reluctantly, in the care of her parents.  As he vacated his perch, her too-tall son tucked himself awkwardly into his mother’s arms and buried his face in her neck.  The young man that he had turned out to be was still her little boy, after all.

It took Killian a long moment to dig through the downstairs closet and pull out his pirate garb.  Over the years, he had acquired quite the modern wardrobe and it showed in the sheer size of their closets.  He was partially convinced Emma had done something magical to squeeze all of the clothing neatly inside.  Finally dragging out the heavy leather, Killian settled the familiar weight on his shoulders and ran his fingers along the worn material.  The lightness of Emma’s red leather jacket contrasted sharply with his duster and he marveled at it for a moment.

But when he heard the slamming of the bedroom door and the stomping of feet, he was ripped from remembering the many times he’d seen Emma don this jacket as armor.

Henry bolted down the stairs and Killian didn’t have to be overly observant to see the tears tracking down his cheeks.  David followed on his heels, stopping only to direct Killian back to Emma before he followed his grandson to the back porch.

He was waylaid by a tear-stricken Snow before he could mount the last stair.  “Take care of her now, Killian.  But come back to us after.”

He couldn’t let himself dwell on her words for too long.  The red eyes on both Snow’s and Neal’s faces – though the young prince looked more confused than sad – told him that Emma had already said her goodbyes.  Killian was gripped by a cold fear he had only ever experienced when he turned from the _Jewel_ ’s landing in familiar water to see Liam collapsing and when he watched the light fade from Milah’s eyes.  Surely Emma wouldn’t have left this world without granting him a last moment with her.

He burst through the door to their bedroom to the only sight that could have torn the grasp of terror from around his heart.  Emma was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in a cream sweater and dark jeans, zipping up her boots.

The sparkle was gone from her eyes, but there was a strength there that buoyed his spirits for the moment.  She stood up shakily and Killian rushed to her side to steady her.  “I was hoping to go out to the _Jolly Roger_ one last time.”

The whispered request made him smile and suddenly the attire made more sense.  He slipped the red leather over her shoulders and led her to her yellow vessel.  The short drive to the docks left Emma listless, but there was excitement in her eyes underneath the exhaustion and the pain.  Killian scooped her into his arms and carried her aboard.

Following her directions, he settled them both in the bow of the ship.  Even now, he could feel the magic that coursed through the planks of his ship.  He knew that he would scuttle the _Jolly Roger_ in an instant or set fire to her and happily watch her sink if it would save Emma.

But it was too late for that now, and the fact that Swan wanted to spend some of her last moments here made his ship all the more important to him.  It was bittersweet, he supposed, that his greatest losses and his greatest joys were written indelibly into the very being of the _Jolly Roger_.

He’d have to remember to thank Liam when he saw him again.

Cuddling Emma close, Killian rested his left arm across her stomach and watched her long fingers curl around the cool metal.  As many years as they’d been together, he still got a little jolt of joy at how easily she accepted his hook.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?”  Killian tightened his right arm across Emma’s shoulders as his lips caressed the shell of her ear, whispering.  “You’ve saved me so many times.”

“We’ve saved each other.”

Killian hummed in acknowledgment, burying his nose more deeply into her hair.  They had come a long way from “look out for yourself and you’ll never get hurt” and “the only one who saves me is me”.  Gods, but he loved this woman.

Emma pulled Liam’s ring – _her ring_ – from its chain and toyed with it.  Her free hand grasped his right one, but instead of entwining their fingers like she had so many times over the years, she turned his hand palm up and closed his fingers around the warm metal.  “You said once that this was a reminder that I had a piercing eyed, smoldering pirate that loves me – you were waiting for me to come back to you.  It helped me then and it led me to you when Hades had you.  I’m giving this to you now for the same reason.  I’ll be waiting for you on the other side.  I love you, so much.”

Killian slipped the ring onto the chain that held his pirate’s luck

“I will always find you.”

Emma chuckled lightly.  “It _is_ our family’s motto.”

She caressed her fingers over the charms.  Her voice got quiet and Killian had to strain to hear her.  “There was an author in this world.  He wrote a version of your story.  He got almost everything wrong, of course, but there was something in how he portrayed you that makes me wonder…”

“I still maintain that I have never had a waxed moustache nor a perm, Emma.”

There was a ghost of a smile on her lips as she remembered that exchange in Neverland as well.  “Not that.  He showed you as a magnificent pirate, and you weren’t unheroic, even then.  But that wasn’t why I thought of him.  He said something once, and it’s something I want you to remember.”

“I’ll remember everything about you, Emma.  I love you more than anything.”

She nodded and rested her head back against his chest, content to let the quote go unsaid.  They sat in silence for a moment as Emma caught her breath.  She watched the sun continue to set over the water and he was content to watch her.

When she finally told him what the author had said that she wanted him to remember, the sun had almost disappeared beyond the horizon.  Her head was tucked under his chin and she was nearly boneless in his arms.  “Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.”

He was about to respond to her declaration when the lack of movement from where his hooked arm rested on her torso stole the breath from his lungs.  It seemed Emma had gotten the last word in, after all.

Tears coursed unchecked down his cheeks to soak into her hair.  Killian clutched her to his chest as he rocked back and forth.  It felt like his heart was trying to rip itself free of his chest and there was a horrible keening sound coming from somewhere close by, and it took a lifetime to realize that the terrible sound was coming from _him_.

He couldn’t stop.

When he finally came back to himself, the moon was high in the sky and Emma’s body was cold in his arms, and both were unacceptable.  Killian awkwardly slid out of his heavy leather jacket and tucked it around his love, cradling her back to his chest and tangling his fingers in her hair.  Burying his face in her golden locks, Killian squeezed his eyes tightly shut against the fresh onslaught of tears and curled his body more firmly around her.  He was frozen in place, unable to muster the strength to move, to think, to breathe without shuddering.  Emma was gone and Killian had no idea how to function.

For all that he had thought he was ready, Killian was suddenly terrified.  He had survived in a world without Emma Swan in it for centuries.  . He had been a successful pirate, captained a crew without the threat of mutiny, pillaged and plundered and loved and lost.  He had done all of that and never thought twice about it.  But after the past few years chasing Emma, winning her heart, and living out his wildest dream – a happy ending with his True Love – Killian Jones had no idea how he was supposed to endure a world where his Savior no longer existed.


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

 

 

 

  


**_Look at the amazing art that[cocohook38](http://cocohook38.tumblr.com) over at Tumblr did for my fic!_**

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* * *

He finally dreamed peacefully of her a few weeks after they buried her. Up until that point, his dreams – nightmares – had all been of losing her.  To see her so alive and happy nearly crippled him.  It had been a simple dream.  She had been _right there_ ; warm and soft and pliant in his arms, smiling at him.  Now his arms were empty and his fingers were clutching at the pillow that used to be hers.  Unable to help himself, he buried his nose in the cotton of the pillowcase, inhaling her scent.  The bottle of her perfume that he kept on hand for just such a reason was almost gone, it wouldn’t be long before he ran out.

Killian squeezed his eyes shut against the reality of his world now, trying to recapture the wisps of his dream.  Tears ran unchecked down his cheeks and he made no move to wipe them away.  Had he even been aware of the fact that he was very nearly sobbing, he still wouldn’t have moved for fear of erasing the dream from his memory.  Vibrant eyes looking at him gleefully, the scent of her shampoo filling his nostrils, soft hair sliding easily through his fingers.  Those were what he wanted to see.  To smell.  To feel.  Not the scratchy sheets of his bed.  Or the planks of wood that made up the walls of the _Jolly Roger_.  Or even the salty sea air that had been a balm to his soul for so long.  He just wanted his Swan back, more and more every moment.  Her absence was a black hole in his chest where his heart should be beating.

There wasn’t enough rum in all the realms to dull the agony that was now his daily existence.  Killian would find himself watching Henry struggle through the day, holding his young head up high even as the loss of one of his mothers threatened to buckle his knees.  The boy had lost so many members of his family; Killian wasn’t entirely sure how he kept going as well as he did.  He kept an eye on Snow and Charming from a distance, watching as they held it together for the young prince – their only remaining child.  He was irrationally and yet wholly jealous of the little boy.  Neal didn’t really understand that his big sister was never coming back and so was a source of light for the Prince and his Bandit amidst the dark melancholy of losing their oldest child.  Killian watched her family push valiantly through day after day, and couldn’t understand.  How could they be so resilient when he felt like every moment without Emma was stealing the very strength from his bones? 

He had never felt weaker in his long, long life.

Killian knew that Snow saw him floundering and tried to draw him under her wing.  She constantly invited him to dinner and stomped down Main Street to find him and drag him to the loft by his ear when he wouldn’t – when he _couldn’t_ – show up.

His mother-in-law really was a frightening woman.

Emma had told him once, back in the Enchanted Forest when he still thought she was going to leave him for New York, that you don’t have a home until you just miss it.

Killian hadn’t really understood her then.  He had been ecstatic that her realization had given her the impetus she needed to stay in Storybrooke, but he hadn’t grasped her meaning.  He thought he had never really had a home other than the _Jolly Roger_.  And he had given that up in an instant for her.  Which probably should have been his first clue.

And now?  When she was _gone_ and he still _had_ his ship?  Now, he _understood_ what home really meant.

The _Jolly Roger_ would never be his home again.

He had tried to stay in their house after she passed.  He remembered the bleak days when she was the Dark One, prowling the halls of the home he had chosen for them at all hours of the night while she didn’t sleep.  He knew that she had soldiered on there after he made her leave him behind in the Underworld.  

It may have only been a few days that they were separated, but he knew now from personal experience that each hour felt like a lifetime.  And still she took their house and made it into the home he wanted for her.

All while he was cold in the ground.

All while she was sure that he was never coming back.

Killian didn’t know how she did it – knowing that the place she was in was meant to be a happy future for them.  When all that it could have been turned into an excruciating reminder of all that had been lost.

He had fallen in love with the idea of that house when he saw it in the newspaper.  There was some work that needed to be done to it, sure, but he had planned on using that to make it _theirs_.  He had looked forward to such mundane tasks as moving furniture around and picking colors for the walls.  The work and the resulting combination of _his_ and _hers_ into _their_ home had been intended to bring them both hope and peace.  And it _had_ ; for a time.  They had been happy there, content to be together and undeniably in love.  He had found peace for them amidst the turmoil of Storybrooke on a Tuesday.  Their home was an oasis from chaos, and it brought them relief.

All it brought him now was pain.

Killian may have been a glutton for punishment, but even he had his limits.  And attempting to rest in their too-large king size bed where he tossed and turned throughout the night was beyond his capacity for pain.  So he had quickly retreated to the familiar, cramped quarters of the _Jolly Roger_.  He took solace in the fact that the small bunk was barely big enough for one.

But she was here, too.  Indelibly etched into the bare bones of his ship, Emma haunted his every waking thought.  An evening out on the bay, teaching her the constellations he had researched just for her.  The weekend spent sailing just beyond the town’s borders, wrapped up in each other and not much else.  The nights where his nightmares of his time in the Underworld sent him scurrying to familiar ground – only to wake up with her cuddled half on top of him to make room in the bunk.

There was no place safe from her memory, and Killian endured each hot lash against his heart when the recollection faded and she was still gone.  Buried in the town’s cemetery next to his own headstone.

He lingered in every memory he had of her – the monumentous ones where she declared her love for him and the mundane ones where she was simply content to be at his side.  Holding his hand as they walked down Main Street and giggling quietly as she mussed up his hair.  Pouring all of her love into her kiss when she finally understood the depth of his feeling for her and stopping him simply to tell him she loved him with no strings attached.  Pushing him away as she plunged the dagger into the Darkness to save them all and putting Excalibur through his chest to save him from that same Darkness that she had saved him with almost at the cost of his soul.

But those memories come with a cost.  And each tear that he paid in penance burned a trail straight to his heart.

He wouldn’t trade a minute of knowing her for all the riches in all the realms.

Helpless against the pain, Killian had ventured at one point into the Dark One’s shop, begging the man to put him out of his misery.  _Here’s your chance to finally put an end to me, Crocodile_ , he had taunted.  _Take my heart and crush it to dust like you’ve wanted to for so many centuries.  I took Milah from you, stole her away right under your nose._

Rumplestiltskin had cackled with glee when he refused.  It would be far more thrilling to watch the pirate suffer mindless grief for years.

Killian wandered aimlessly through the days without her, putting one foot in front of the other with no drive other than making it from sunrise to sunset.  When Liam died, he had righteous indignation to buoy him – the lure of piracy giving him reason to fight.  When Milah was taken from him, he had revenge in his heart that masked the pain of losing his first love.  But Emma’s death was different.  He couldn’t hide behind resentment or hatred any more.  Her loss left him naked against the onslaught of grief.

He tried to be strong.  He tried to push on and find purpose in watching over her family.  He tried to be the good man – the hero – she always insisted he was.

But he never believed that he was worth that praise.

He spent almost a year of trudging through the days, rum soaked as they were, when Snow mentioned that she had gone up to the house.  He hadn’t even set foot near that part of town since moving back to the _Jolly Roger_ and as far as he was concerned, the building and everything in it could go up in flames.  Snow had laid her petite hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles over his shoulder blade as she pressed something cold and metal into his hand.

The compass that was supposed to lead them home.

“I found it in her things; she’d want you to have it.”  Snow left him at the docks that day, sitting on the edge of the pier and staring at the needle that spun endlessly in circles.  It seemed the compass had even less a heading than he, himself, did.

* * *

Her birthday had been the worst.  A day meant to honor her and no one else – a day that had brought him nothing but joy when she was there for him to dote on, to celebrate her and pamper her until she was red with embarassment.  Now, the day passed in an endless drag of tears and memories until Killian had abandoned all pretense and drained his flask with alacrity.  The burn in the back of his throat matched the burn of his tears as they streamed unchecked into the scruff of his beard.  He had no idea how he made it from the Charmings’ loft to the docks, even less how he managed to sail the _Jolly Roger_ into open water until there was nothing around him – not even the moon’s reflection or this realm’s constellations.  There, completely alone in the world, he screamed his grief into the abyss until his throat was hoarse and the cries that erupted from his very chest were little more than breathy wheezes.

Killian turned his back on the sea, collapsing into the bow of his ship and cradled his knees to his chest.  With his head thrown back against the enchanted wood behind him, the agony in his chest was almost bearable.  He had lost her in this very spot, had held her body close to his chest, whispering his love in her ear until the paramedics had come and David and Snow had pulled him away.

He listed until he fell to his side, curling up in a ball with one arm clenched across his stomach and the other hand pulling hard on his hair – the pain no less than he deserved for losing her and then turning into a shell of a man.  He couldn’t do this any longer.  He had tried to soldier on – to find meaning in being a part of her family and find strength in the ties that bound them.  But he had lost so much more.  He had lived so long and he was _tired_.

His mother.  Liam.  Milah.  Emma.

_Emma_.

He was never supposed to be the one to survive.  And yet he was the only one left in a world where he no longer had a place.

Killian lay on the deck until his tears dried and his heart tried to knit itself back into some semblance of the organ that gave him life – he imagined it was little more than a scarred rock in his chest.  He had nothing left to give, no strength to pick himself up and sail back into the harbor. 

The sky had lightened in the early morning hours, and the colors of the sunrise reflected all around him.  He always loved this time of day, when everything was fresh and new with possibility.  He looked to the East as the sun peeked over the horizon, and all he saw was the austerity of another day.  The future looked bleak and he wanted no part of it.  He didn’t want to sail back to Storybrooke to watch the townsfolk move along without their savior.  He didn’t want to see the Charmings learning to smile again.  He didn’t want to run into Henry out with Regina.

He wanted to see Emma.

He climbed slowly to his feet, bracing himself against the gunwale with his hands gripping the familiar wooden rail.  As his head bowed under the strain of being so successful at surviving, he was drawn to the way the morning’s light glinted off of the metal hanging from his neck.

His hand leaves the railing of the _Jolly Roger_ – just one more thing that should have remained in his brother’s care – to grasp the small circle of silver.

 

> _This is your lucky ring.  
>  **The one that always gets me home safe.** _

 

> _It helped me then and it led me to you when Hades had you._

 

> _You know I’m a survivor.  Well, this ring is why.  I’ve had it for years, it’s the reason I’m alive._

 

Liam’s ring.  Her ring.  Now his once more. 

He gave it to Emma to keep her safe.  To keep the part of her that was still fighting against the Darkness protected from the evil that was trying to vanquish her.  He wanted her to come back to him so they could begin their life together.

But he lost her anyway. 

Nothing in his long life was ever meant to stay, and he had forgotten that.  His curse was to watch everyone he loved be torn from him.  Foolishly, he had let himself believe that the savior had broken that curse when she stole his heart.

He should have known better.

The edges of the metal cut into his palm as he tightened his fist.  The pain in his hand was dwarfed by the anguish that surged through him.  She left him behind.  Just like everyone else had.  Hot, fiery anger built in his chest until the chain around his neck snapped and the broken pieces draped over his fingers.

Killian clenched his eyes shut against the flow of tears and forced a breath through his nose.  He finally glanced down after a moment to look at the ring resting innocently between his fingers.  He had told her this ring was the reason he survived for so long.  This ring was the reason he always came back safe.

He didn’t want to be safe – to survive – any more.

Rearing back, Killian put all his fury behind the throw, watching dispassionately as the symbol of his luck sailed through the air and far away from the ship.  Liam’s ring arced high into the sky before it finally hit the water with a distinct “plonk”. 

The metal sunk quickly below the waves and took the last of Killian’s spirit with it.

Robotically, Killian moved away from the bow and back to the helm.  He steered the _Jolly Roger_ back to the harbor in a dazed fog until he berthed her at the dock.  Crouched on the pier in a stupor, still holding the bowline he had tied to the cleat, Killian had no purpose.  There were no tears on his face, nor any left to cry.  Emma was gone and he had nothing left inside himself.  His only intention was to climb back aboard his ship and make his way below.  There, away from prying eyes, he could curl up in his bunk until… well, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to do after that.

The helm beckoned silently to him and Killian heeded the call.  He ran his fingers over the etchings in the wood where he had once taught Baelfire to sail.  He caressed the lines tied so efficiently.  Standing behind the helm, Killian imagined the first time he had manned his station here, the world spread before him as he navigated on a compass’ heading.

Reaching into his pocket, Killian grasped the cool metal of Emma’s compass.  When he opened the hasp and pulled the lid away, he wasn’t surprised by what he saw.  The needle didn’t point in any one direction, but rather spun wildly with no clear heading.  The compass was supposed to help the bearer find home – Killian’s home had gone where he couldn’t follow.

Closing his eyes against a fresh bout of tears, Killian shut the top and clutched the compass to his chest.  Unable to stand strong, he dropped his head to stare unseeingly at his feet.  He wanted nothing more than to find Emma again, to be at her side and revel in her love.  For all the times Killian Jones had stared into the face of death and laughed, he wanted nothing more than to embrace it this time.  He wanted his suffering to end.  The rending of his heart in two seemed to agree and with that, he absolutely knew what to do now.

Slowly, Killian turned his back to the sight of the deck spread before him and sank down until he was resting against the polished wood of the helm.  His arms fell to his side and long fingers splayed out against weathered planks below him, the compass rolling away from his grasp. 

“I’m finally coming to find you, Emma.” 

The weight of his long, long life sat heavily on his shoulders, and he found it difficult to even summon the energy to draw in a breath.  He managed, but only just.  His heart beat out a haphazardly slowing rhythm of grief and it was all simply too much.  Killian closed his eyes and let his head fall back against a spoke of the ship’s wheel.  The air expelled from his chest, and then all was still.

* * *

 

>   ** _And after he finally let go and followed her into their afterlife, everyone who knew them began to tell the story about how Killian Jones, self-proclaimed survivor, died of a broken heart._ **

* * *

The first thing he feels is _nothing_.  No pain, no grief, no heartbreak; nothing.  His soul had been shattered so completely, in the dark days without Emma there to soothe the jagged pieces back together, that the absence of that agony now jars him enough to open his eyes.

Bright light assaults his retinas and he has to squeeze his eyes tightly shut once more against the burn of the sun’s rays.  He has learned the sounds of Storybrooke’s harbor well enough by now to know that he is no longer there.  The wooden planks at his back are familiar, however, and he has a momentary panic when he thinks that he and the _Jolly Roger_ have been swept through a portal instead of where he had hoped he would have traveled.   _This_ is definitely _not_ the Underworld.

But then a soft, accented voice calls out in scarcely more than a whisper, “welcome home, little brother.”

Liam’s shadow buffers him against the bright sky so that he is able to open his eyes and focus on the man standing, tall and proud, in front of him.  His older brother looks younger than when they’d met in the Underworld.  Time seems to revert when you finally complete your life’s journey, because this is the image of Liam as he was the day they set out for Neverland – young and carefree.

A soft smile graces Liam’s countenance as he reaches out a hand to haul Killian to his feet.  The ship beneath them rocks easily in the tiny waves, the sea mostly calm all around them.  He takes a minute to drink in the smell of the ocean, of clean, salty air filling his lungs and relishing the ease with which he breathes.  Killian looks around the ship distractedly, taking in the men that scurry around completing their duties, the way the sails billow in the breeze that cools his skin.  There is a pile of unused sails stowed in the bow of the ship, and Killian looks confused for a moment at the haphazard storage place.  Liam was usually far more meticulous than that.

Then he has no more time to contemplate the change as Liam’s patience runs out and Killian is tugged into a firm embrace, his head guided gently to the crook of his brother’s neck.   _This_ he had missed in all the centuries since Liam had passed – _this_ was the family that had been lost to him for so long.

But _this_ was also the family he had been given, not the one he had taken and painstakingly carved into the very essence of his being.  It had been the Jones brothers against the world for so long, but those days were in the distant past.   _This_ still doesn’t feel complete – not anymore.

But Killian Jones has never thought of himself as a strong man, so he doesn’t lift his head from Liam’s shoulder for a long moment.  He _has_ missed the simplicity of being the little brother.  He has _missed_ the feeling of safety that his brother always provided.  He has missed _this_.

Liam obliges him for as long as he needs, so the two stand silently at the helm of their ship until Killian manages to settle his equilibrium - to find his sea legs, so to speak.  His older brother is _here_ , and he _will_ find Emma.  He has all the time in the world, now.

But regardless of how overjoyed he is to be reunited with his older brother, there is still a sense of melancholy about him.  He had thought – he had _hoped_ – that it would have been Emma waiting to greet him.  To usher him into the peaceful eternity they both deserved.  Killian had tried so damned hard to be strong for her after he lost her, to go on with his life and surround himself with her – with _their_ family.  But in the end, her siren’s call, like always, was just too strong to resist.  So he had let go, praying that when he opened his eyes again, blonde hair and green eyes would be hovering above him - that smile she reserved only for him welcoming him home.

Curly hair and blue eyes, as much as they reminded him of home once, just don’t bring the same sense of peace.

The same sense of _home_.

Too late, he realizes that Liam has finally moved away from the helm, pointing out various changes to the ship and additions to their crew.  Killian stumbles over his feet trying to catch up.  His brother laughs easily at him.

“Ah, yes.  I do remember the disorientation of showing up here, little brother.  Even when you’re _expecting_ to see the white sails and calm seas rather than red skies and smoke, it can be a bit off-putting for a moment.  I’ll save most of the introductions of the crew for later then, after you get your sea legs about you.  But I did want to introduce you to my first mate.  You two will have to decide between yourselves who gets to keep that title now that you’ve finally come aboard.”  Killian cants his head to the side at the playful tone in Liam’s voice.

“Who is it? Starkey?  Or Mullins?  Not Bill Jukes.”  All three sailors were men who had followed Killian from the _Jewel of the Realm_ to the _Jolly Roger_ , who he had lost to Pan in Neverland, and who Liam had trusted implicitly back when he’d been their captain.

Liam just shakes his head, still smiling.  “Come and see, little brother.”

Killian grumbles at the moniker, but it doesn’t have the sting it once had.  How can it when he is finally, _finally_ , back where he belongs – one step behind his big brother and at the right hand of his captain.

The only thing that would make this version of the great beyond perfect would be…

Killian’s thoughts trail off as his jaw drops.

The bow of the ship _is_ occupied, and by more than just the pile of sails he had originally thought were stored there.  Bright blonde hair billows in the breeze, the loose tendrils flying free from any constraint.  Vibrant green eyes lift from the tear in the sail that nimble fingers are mending.  A soft smile – _that smile_ – so often directed at him in life lights the world between them.  Two spots of healthy, rosy red draw his attention to full cheeks that strain with _that_ grin.  There is a slight sunburn highlighting freckles spattered across a face he had only seen in his dreams of late.

If Killian weren’t sure that he had passed on from his earthly life, he would swear his heart has stopped beating at the goddess sitting in the bow of the _Jewel of the Realm_.  She outshines the ship on her best day of sailing.

“I’ll leave you two to get reacquainted, brother.  Come find me later and we’ll catch up.”  Liam claps him on the shoulder, giving him a light shove forward when Killian forgets how to work his legs.

“Swan,” her name is a whisper, a plea on his lips, a benediction and prayer all in one.

He staggers for a few steps, like a cabin boy in his first storm.  But his Swan rises gracefully from her perch on the deck, smiling all the more brightly for his incoordination.  “Oh, _Emma_.”

His feet are rooted to the spot as she steps over the fabric forgotten at her feet.  There is no hurry in her movements, no desperate need to join them together in an embrace.  There is only the serenity that the two of them create between themselves.

There is only their True Love.

Then her arms wrap tightly around his neck and his hands fall automatically to her hips.  He breathes in the scent of her, burying his face in her hair.  They aren’t close enough, they can never be close enough after their forced separation, so he locks his hands around her back and lifts, determined to erase all of the space between them.  It has been far too long since he was able to revel in her like this.

He treads carefully into the mass of sails, sitting her on the gunwale at the bow and stepping easily between her knees.  Emma looks up at him, her eyes soft as she smiles.  Killian’s lips twitch upward in response.  She’s easily the most beautiful creature he has ever laid eyes upon.  Deliberately, he bends forward until his forehead rests against hers, his fingers moving to tangle in her hair, the silky locks sliding effortlessly between them.  As he looks down, he can see Liam’s ring resting against her chest, where it has always belonged.  His ring, her heart.  They are entwined as they should be.  Together.

Emma is quiet, her arms wrapped loosely around his hips, patiently allowing him the time for his heart to heal.

He takes the time to drink in this familiar feeling of comfort, of love, before he breaks the spell.  Meeting her gaze, Killian moves slowly until his lips touch hers reverently.  It’s just a brush of a kiss, a brief fluttering of her lips against his, but it brings about the most powerful flash of emotion welling deep within him.  He is so in love with this woman that it borders on painful.

He doesn’t realize that tears are coursing down his cheeks as freely as the day she died until Emma brushes them away with the pad of her thumb.  She guides his head to her shoulder, carding her fingers soothingly through his hair.  Her lips brush his ear as she whispers, “Get all your tears out now, my love.  They are the last ones that you will ever shed.”

It takes a few long moments, but his cheeks finally dry and his heart feels lighter for the momentary lapse in strength.  He smiles gently at her, dragging his thumb over her lips before he leans in once more.

This kiss is deeper, more passionate, but no more powerful than the last.  He pours every last drop of the misery that has been his only real company into it, purging it from his soul until it is little more than memory.  When they are forced to pull back for air, there is only love between them.  Love and utter joy.

“Is this your happy ending, love?” He asks, already knowing the answer.  They are, after all, in their own private version of eternity.

Emma smiles coyly at him.  “Don’t you know, Killian?  It’s you.”

He is in her embrace.  He is surrounded by her.

He is home.

His brother comes to find them a while later, while they are cuddled together amidst the torn sails Emma had been in the process of repairing.  They are speaking softly to each other and it is only when Liam clears his throat that Killian remembers that there is a world outside their little bubble.  He smirks unabashedly at his brother’s raised eyebrow.  “Did you need something, Liam?” he asks, a trace of the smug pirate leaking into his query.

Liam rolls his eyes.  “I was coming to ask if you’d like to take the helm for a bit.  But I can see you’re otherwise occupied.”

Before Killian can make a retort, Emma jumps to her feet with a childlike grin on her face and tugs on his hand impatiently.  He obliges, following her hurried pace until he stands behind the wheel, his hands grasping the spokes over hers and her back pressed against his chest.  Together, they turn her into the wind, watching happily as the sails billow in the breeze before filling out.  The _Jewel of the Realm_ lurches forward in response and cuts through the water with ease.

They are headed into the unknown, a future filled with nothing but possibilities, family, and their love.  After all his centuries of fighting, Killian has finally found what he has always wanted.  And he has Emma at his side to share it with.

He leans forward, kissing the shell of her ear as he adjusts their course directly into the sunset.

“Well, Swan, this will be an awfully big adventure.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you’ve made it through this, I’m sincerely hoping to hear from you about this one. Yelling, comments, concerns, snide remarks, just please let me know what you thought.  
> (and if you are broken by this, kindly remember that there’s a fluffy kitten called Pirate who has several much lighter adventures than the tale you just read.)  
> Just as an aside, for a long while before Nina helped me come up with the title, it was alternately labeled “Whoops” and “How to Bawl Your Eyes Out, a Study in Fifteen Thousand Words” - both of which, while apropos, we eventually discounted so that people might actually read it.  
> Lastly, for those of you who are reading The Darling Affair, (shameless self-promotion, I know, but please go read that one, it’s not as angsty! And there’s adventure and the Brothers Jones and Captain Swan times) Chapters will be posted as usual on Wednesday until it is complete. I hope you’ll give it a go if I haven’t done you in with this story.


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